


what a lovely way to burn

by ktlsyrtis



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, gratuitous locker room makeout
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktlsyrtis/pseuds/ktlsyrtis
Summary: Serena suggests that Bernie could use someraw, sweaty, unadulterated, vigorous, passionin her life. Turns out Bernie agrees.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 58
Kudos: 232
Collections: Redvines Day





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fortytworedvines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortytworedvines/gifts).



> Written for the lovely fortytworedvines - I hope you've enjoyed your day!

Bernie peels off her scrub top and drops it in the hamper, the vest underneath clinging to her skin. She wouldn’t have expected AAU’s broken air conditioning to get to her this much. The arid, dry heat of the desert never used to bother her, but this suffocating humidity is misery.

Sitting on the bench in front of her locker, she’s trying to work up the energy to finish changing when the door to the locker room swings open. Serena breezes in, plops down beside Bernie with a huff.

“And I thought menopause was hot!” She waves the halves of her silk blouse in an attempt to generate some air flow, letting the fabric fall back off her shoulders and pool at her elbows.

“Give me Afghanistan any day,” Bernie says, eyes lingering a bit on the freckles that dust the pale skin of Serena’s shoulders, the column of her neck.

“The desert over Holby?” Serena looks at her like she’s grown a second head. “I shudder to think.”

Bernie chuckles, stretching her long legs out in front of her. “It grows on you, I suppose. And the night sky there is stunning.” She rubs at a scuff on her trainer with the toe of her other shoe. “Besides, there’s not a lot keeping me here, if I’m honest.”

“I know things are hard now, but they will get better. You’ll see.” The care in Serena’s voice warms Bernie’s chest in a way the oppressive heat never could.

“I know, it’s just...” She huffs a sigh, the damp tendrils of her fringe fluttering a bit. “No marriage, no house, kids who won’t give me the time of day. Not quite the new start I was looking for.”

She starts at the touch of Serena’s hand, the soft fingers curling over her own, meets those warm eyes with a hint of a smile.

“Then you should make a start of your own.” Serena jostles their joined hands, squeezing gently. “Get out there again, find someone new.”

Bernie barks out a disbelieving laugh.

“Oh yes, I’m quite a catch! Most women are looking for broke workaholics who live in grotty flats.” Serena just rolls her eyes, the blouse slipping further down her arm as she gestures.

“I’m not saying you should run out and get married, Bernie. Or even date seriously.” A wicked sparkle shows in her eyes. “You know what you need?”

“What?”

“Some raw, sweaty, unadulterated, vigorous, passion.” Her voice drops a full octave when she says it, the words practically dripping from her lips, tugging at Bernie’s insides like a cord tethered to the base of her spine. Serena’s face colors further. “Sorry, it’s the heat.”

Despite the temperature of the room, Bernie feels the prickle of goosebumps along her skin. She licks her suddenly dry lips, eyes following the path of a bead of sweat that makes its way down Serena’s neck, pooling in the hollow of her collarbone.

“Are you offering?” Bernie wishes she could take the words back as soon as she says them, Serena turning toward her with shock in her wide eyes.

“Me?” she says, clearly flustered, eyes sliding away, looking anywhere but at Bernie’s face.

“It’s a joke, Serena,” Bernie says carefully, doesn’t want to make her any more uncomfortable. Something flits across Serena’s face, and Bernie can almost see her pull in on herself.

“Right, because women aren’t banging down the door of middle-aged workaholics in orthopedic shoes.”

“That’s not what I said.” Bernie hitches a leg up on the bench, turning to face Serena more fully. “I think that anyone, man or woman, would be incredibly lucky to have you.” The last words stick a bit in her throat, as her mind veers down a less than appropriate, and very enticing path.

Serena finally meets her gaze with a soft smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“That’s very nice of you, Bernie,” she says with a pat to Bernie’s hand. “But I have no illusions about my prospects this side of fifty. Besides, who could possibly meet my standards?”

Bernie can see Serena putting up a brave front, and it strikes her that Serena really believes that it would take some kind of aberration for someone to be attracted to her. Irrational anger surges in her, along with desire to find anyone who’s ever made Serena feel less than and introduce him to what her children referred to at The Major when they were in trouble.

More than that, Bernie wants to show Serena that she’s wrong.

“I’m not being nice,” Bernie says softly. “I’m being honest. Serena, you’re beautiful.”

She reaches up, her hand moving seemingly of its own volition,and brushes the back of her knuckles along the edge of Serena’s jaw. Somewhere along the way, they’ve gravitated closer, until there’s mere inches of space left between them. Her eyes flit over Serena’s face, taking in the flush of her cheeks, the rapid flutter of her pulse at the base of her neck, lingering on her mouth for a breathless moment that seems to last an eternity.

Without thinking, Bernie closes the gap between them. She feels Serena’s surprised little gasp, and then all she can think about is how soft Serena’s lips are, how _right_ they feel beneath her own. 

Some part of her brain finally comes to its senses, and Bernie forces herself to break the kiss. She knows she should apologize, but the sight of Serena’s heavily lidded eyes, and slightly parted lips short circuits her brain.

Before she can formulate the words, Serena’s hands are grabbing at her shoulders, reeling her back in, crashing their mouths together.

All of the reasons this is a terrible idea disappear as Bernie curls her hand behind Serena’s neck, fingers brushing through the soft, short hair at her nape, tilting her head just so and slanting their lips together more firmly.

Bernie quickly discovers that Serena kisses the way she does everything else she enjoys - with total abandon. Her tongue swipes against Bernie’s lips, demanding entrance, and Bernie is all too happy to grant it. She feels Serena fumbling at the back of her head. There’s a sharp tug and the distant ping of her hair clip bouncing off a locker and clattering to the floor, and then Serena’s hands are buried in her hair, blunt nails scratching lightly against her scalp, sending shivers of sensation skittering down her spine as they kiss again and again.

The world around them disappears in a haze of heat and lust, all Bernie can think of is getting closer to Serena, feeling more of her. She slides her hands around Serena’s back, finally exploring those incredible curves she’s been trying her hardest to not fantasize about (and failing spectacularly), the warmth of Serena’s body radiating through the thin silk of her vest.

Serena must have the same idea, because her hands are everywhere, mapping every inch of Bernie’s neck and back, the lean muscle of her bare shoulders, fingers trailing fire every place she touches. With a low growl, Bernie tugs, sliding Serena along the bench, until she’s close enough that their breasts are crushed together and one of Serena’s legs is hooked around her own.

Through it all they’re kissing like it’s the only thing keeping them alive, practically devouring one another. The shift in position must hike up Serena’s vest a bit, and when Bernie’s hand drags along the curve of her back the silk gives way to velvet soft skin. She slides back up just beneath the hem, fingers counting the bumps of Serena’s spine, eager for more. Serena moans at the contact, her hips jerking helplessly against Bernie’s thigh.

Something clatters outside the locker room, piercing the bubble around them. They jerk apart, both panting, eyes fixed on the door.

No one comes in, thank god, but the moment is well and truly broken, a new tension replacing the miasma of desire that surrounded them only moments before. Bernie dares to glance at Serena, immediately realizes she’s made a mistake. The sight of Serena, dark eyed, lips kiss-swollen and smeared with the remnants of her lipstick, nipples pressing visible against the thin fabric of her vest, paints a picture that has Bernie balling her hands into fists, nails biting into her palms to stop herself from reaching out.

Her knee-jerk reaction is to run. Run far, run fast, and never come back. The part of her brain that’s helped repress her desires her whole life is screaming that she was out of line, that Serena didn’t want this, that she’s going to ruin everything. But those fears are belied by the memory of Serena’s eager hands on her skin, the way she pulled Bernie closer instead of pushing her away. Even now, she’s not fleeing in horror, just watching Bernie carefully, like she’s some sort of skittish animal ready to bolt.

Bernie pushes back against the fear pounding through her veins, the voice in her head. She has the power to choose, and this time she’s going to choose to be brave.

Slowly, she reaches out again, takes Serena’s hand in her own, and something like relief flashes in Serena’s eyes.

“So...” Bernie starts, words quickly failing her.

“So,” Serena parrots back, a hint of a grin curling the corner of her mouth.

Pushing back the desire to kiss the mischievous look off her beautiful face, Bernie clears her throat.

“I, ah, was wondering, well, hoping, that I could take you out? On a, um, date.” Bernie practically rolls her eyes at herself. Leave it to her to make a total hash of asking out a woman who’d practically been in her lap only moments earlier.

“Going about things a little bit backwards, aren’t we, Ms. Wolfe?”

“I’ve never been known to follow the rules.” 

Serena laughs outright at that, bringing a rare full grin to Bernie’s face. She stands, settling her blouse back on her shoulders, glances in the mirror and swipes at the worst of the lipstick smudges with her thumb. Stepping close, enough that Bernie has to crane her neck a bit to look up at her, Serena bends down, brushes a soft kiss against Bernie’s lips.

“Pick me up at seven.” Serena pulls back with a wink, and saunters out of the locker room, Bernie’s eyes following the sway of her hips as she goes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you thought this was a one-shot. So did I! Turns out we were wrong. The idea wouldn't stop poking at me until I did something about it, so please enjoy _Makeout 2: Electric Boogaloo_

Bernie rubs her sweaty palms against her trousers, shifting from foot to foot on Serena’s front porch. Tugs at the hem of her nicest blouse for the thousandth time, making sure it’s laying just so, while a fighter squadron of butterflies perform aerial maneuvers in her stomach.

She still can’t believe that she’s here, about to take Serena Campbell on a date. A real, _romantic_ date. Brought on by a thoroughly unexpected but spectacular snogging session in the AAU locker room a few hours earlier. She imagines she can still taste Serena’s lipstick, can feel the tingle on her lips.

A part of her is firmly convinced this is some kind of mistake, a hallucination brought on by stress and too little sleep. The only thing that got her this far was the memory of Serena’s smile, the gentle press of her lips as she walked away. 

Bernie’s been gripping to the memory like a lifeline since, using it to shore up her fragile bravery.

The door swinging open startles Bernie from her thoughts, heart going like the clappers. A situation that is in no way helped by the sight of Serena in a wine red dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, swirls around her shapely calves, and dips enticingly at the chest.

It’s a long moment before Bernie is able to tear her eyes away and meet Serena’s smirking gaze.

“I, uh. Hi.”

Serena chuckles, the low sound making Bernie’s stomach flip.

“Hi yourself.” She makes a bit of a show of looking Bernie up and down. From the way her eyes darken, her tongue swiping across her lips, Bernie supposes she must like what she sees. “My my, don’t you clean up well, Major.”

“Had to put in some effort if I’m taking out the most beautiful woman in Holby.” 

The words sound terribly cheesy to her ears, but Serena breaks into a smile that warms Bernie right to her toes.

“I think you’re giving me a run for my money,” Serena says with a wink. Closing the door behind her, she threads her arm though Bernie’s, her body warm through the thin layers of fabric that separate them. “Shall we? After today, I’m gasping for a glass of wine.”

The restaurant is a quaint little Italian Bernie’s passed a few times while jogging through the neighborhood. A delicious smell wafts over them as they enter, the interior dim and inviting. The tables are close enough that Bernie urges Serena in front of her as they follow the maitre d’, her hand lingering against the curve of Serena’s lower back.

She peruses the menu as Serena orders the wine, stops herself when she notices her leg bouncing beneath the table. All too soon the waiter is gone, leaving just the two of them and the flickering candle light between them.

“I certainly didn’t expect my day to end quite like this,” Serena says with a wry smile.

“Snap.” Bernie chuckles at the understatement. “I’ll admit, you surprised me today.”

“I surprised myself,” Serena says, fingers fidgeting with her pendant.

The waiter comes back before Bernie can respond, presenting the bottle for Serena’s approval and pouring a splash into her glass. She sips it slowly, tongue darting out against the rim, and Bernie swallows hard against the memory of Serena’s lips against her own. She nods, and the waiter fills both of their glasses, sets the bottle aside as he retreats.

Serena lifts her glass. “Here’s to surprises.”

“To surprises,” Bernie echoes, clinking their glasses softly. The wine is rich and delicious, and all she can think is how the taste will linger in Serena’s mouth.

Bernie takes a deep breath, twisting the stem of her glass back and forth between her fingers.

“So, you’ve never...” She gestures vaguely between them, and Serena’s eyes widen a bit as she swallows her wine.

“I hardly make a habit of kissing coworkers as a matter of course.” She blushes a bit at Bernie’s pointedly raised eyebrow. “No, I’ve never been more than friends with a woman before, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“And is that what we are? More than friends?”

Serena takes another thoughtful sip of her wine, and Bernie has to remind herself to keep breathing.

“I think so,” she says carefully, eyes flickering between Bernie’s and the glass before her. “I hope so.”

She looks so vulnerable that Bernie’s hand moves without thinking, their eyes meeting as her fingers slide against Serena’s atop the table.

“I hope so too.” The words are thick in Bernie’s throat, but the smile that breaks across Serena’s face burns away some of her own uncertainty. Serena turns her hand to slot their fingers together, Bernie’s thumb brushing lightly against the soft skin.

They’re forced to release their hold when the food arrives. By some unspoken agreement they fall back on small talk as they eat, chatting and laughing like this was any other dinner between friends. The undercurrent lingers, a subtle vibration charging the air between them.

It occurs to Bernie, maybe the third or fourth time she catches herself staring at Serena’s deep red lips as she speaks, that there’s no reason to hide it anymore, no reason to feel guilty. The realization loosens something in her chest, makes it that much easier to breathe.

Emboldened, she lets her gaze linger on the curve of Serena’s neck, her elegant collarbones, the shadowed dip at the vee of her dress; all those places that she’s so rigidly kept herself from appreciating before. When she looks up again, Serena’s cheeks have gone a little pink, her breathing shallow, and Bernie smirks into her wine.

They split a decadent tiramisu, spoons clinking together a bit on the plate between them, and Bernie’s certain that the sound Serena makes at the first bite is going to make an appearance in her dreams tonight. A pleasant sort of tension builds between them, their shared glances lingering longer and longer, and Bernie’s a little shocked when she glances at her watch, sees just how late it’s gotten. 

The evening is pleasantly cool, a bright summer moon high overhead as they walk side by side to the car. Serena’s shoulder bumps companionably against her own, and a moment later she tucks her hand into the crook of Bernie’s elbow. She grins bashfully as their eyes meet, squeezing lightly, and the gesture warms Bernie right through.

Pulling into Serena’s drive, Bernie puts the car in park, fingers tapping aimlessly against the steering wheel.

“So,” she begins, trails off a little helplessly, hoping Serena will broach the topic they’ve been avoiding all night.

“So?”

No such luck.

Bernie huffs a bit, her fringe fluttering. “I, um, had a nice time tonight. With you.” Bernie winces internally, almost misses the flash of relief that crosses Serena’s face.

“Really? So did I. I thought maybe...” Serena seems to catch herself, hesitates. “Anyway, I’m glad.”

“Serena?” Bernie reaches across the console, tickles her fingers lightly against Serena’s knuckles, until she loosens her grip on her knee, turns her hand over and slots their fingers together. “What is it?”

“You’ll think I’m being ridiculous.”

“Never.” Bernie chuckles at the disbelieving eyebrow raised sharply in her direction. “Well. Not about this, anyway.” Her voice softens. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“It’s just.” Serena’s eyes flick about the car, landing everywhere but Bernie’s face, even as she maintains a death grip on her hand. “I’ve never been on a date with a woman before. And I worried I might be, well, bad at it.”

It takes every ounce of will that Bernie has to hold back the laugh that threatens to break out of her, knows it would make all of this so much worse. But the thought that Serena Campbell, Holby City’s resident flirt, could ever be bad at dating anyone, regardless of gender, is a genuine impossibility to her mind.

“Another thing we have in common, then,” Bernie says instead, smiling at the confusion on Serena’s face. “I’ve never been on a date with a woman before either.”

“Really? Surely you and Alex...” 

“You may be surprised to hear that there aren’t a lot of dating opportunities when you’re having a secret affair in a war zone.” Bernie regrets her bluntness a little at Serena’s stricken look, settles for stroking her thumb soothingly across Serena’s knuckles. “I just don’t want you to think that I’m some...” 

“Lesbian lothario?” Serena offers eventually, some of the sparkle back in her eyes, and Bernie barks a laugh.

“Something like that.” Turning a little more in her seat, Bernie looks at Serena intently. “So much of this is as new to me as it is to you. I’m hoping that we can figure it all out together.”

The softness in Serena’s glittering eyes makes Bernie’s heart flip in her chest, doubly so when she lifts Bernie’s hand to her lips, brushes a soft kiss against her fingers.

“I’d like that very much.”

“Good.” A giddy sort of relief washes over Bernie. “That’s good.”

“I do think it might be nice to have some space, while we’re figuring this all out,” Serena says. “We both know what the Holby rumor mill is like, and they’d have a field day with this.”

Bernie rolls her eyes, still feels the lingering hurt from her turn at the center of hospital gossip. An experience she has no desire to repeat anytime soon.

“Agreed. We’ll keep this between us, then. Until we’re both ready.” Serena nods.

“Then we can take things slow, figure this all out at our own pace.” Serena smirks a little. “That means no more jumping me in the locker room.”

“Me?” Bernie asks incredulously. “As I recall, _you’re_ the one who practically ended up in my lap.”

“You took me by surprise,” Serena says breezily.

“I think you’ll find that I’m full of surprises,” Bernie teases back. Just like that the atmosphere in the car shifts, and Serena’s eyes go dark, a thrill of desire slithering down Bernie’s spine at the way they linger on her mouth.

Serena shakes her head, cheeks a little flushed. 

“I think I should go, before I forget all of the reasons why taking things slow is a good idea.”

“Right.” Regretfully, Bernie pulls back her hand. She finds she doesn’t know what to do now, her determination to respect Serena’s wishes warring with the desire to lean in and kiss the smile from her lips. “Well. Good night.”

Serena doesn’t move, and Bernie shifts awkwardly, wonders if she’s somehow sprouted a second head in the last few minutes. It would explain how oddly Serena is looking at her.

“That’s it?”

Bernie’s brow furrows. “I, ah, I didn’t want to presume.”

“Oh, Bernie.” Serena chuckles fondly, leaning forward until Bernie can smell her perfume mixed with the lingering shiraz and chocolate on her breath. It leaves her lightheaded. “I think we can bear a little presumption, don’t you?”

This kiss is nothing like their heated snog in the hospital, but Bernie still feels it in her toes. Serena’s lips are soft and sure as they slant across Bernie’s, mostly chaste but hinting at the restrained passion lurking beneath. One kiss turns into many, their mouths parting only to catch their breath before coming together again and again.

Eventually their movements slow, tapering off in a series of gentle pecks. Serena’s tongue flickers against the seam of Bernie’s lips one last time, but doesn’t press, and when she finally pulls away her cheeks are flushed, lips glistening a bit in the moonlight.

“Good night, Bernie.” She tears herself away reluctantly, cool air flooding into the car as she opens the door.

“Good night.” She watches as Serena makes her way up the walk, feels a little stab of pride at the slight unsteadiness in her legs. Keeps watching, her lips tingling, as Serena unlocks her door and turns, waving one last time before she disappears into the house, a soft thud echoing in the evening air.


	3. Chapter 3

There aren’t any more official dates over the next few weeks, both of them focused on the mountain of work it’s taken to get the trauma unit up and running. The bright spot of all the overtime they’re putting in is being able to do it together.

They keep things quiet, as agreed, especially when they’re burning the candle at both ends, but just knowing that there’s more between them, that it’s been acknowledged, shifts the atmosphere. Bernie finds herself hyper aware of every time Serena’s hand lingers on her arm in passing, or their shoulders brush in the hall. Where before Serena’s presence engendered a mix of frustrated longing and abject terror, now there’s only warmth.

Each of them does what they can within the confines of their agreement. Bernie keeps Serena topped up on caffeine and pastry, Serena makes sure Bernie stops to eat and take a breath when she’s rushed off her feet. Familiar actions from their friendship before, imbued with deeper meaning. Other things are new; like the day Bernie finds a stack of cost projections to review on her desk, with a sticky note on top, ‘ _date night? xx’_ scribbled across it in Serena’s familiar hand, the words glowing like an ember in her chest the rest of the day.

While they both wish they could spend more time out of work, it does make taking things slow a far sight easier. The closest they’ve gotten since that night at the italian were a few heated, illicit snogs pressed up against Serena’s car in the dark car park after yet another late night.

Today Bernie’s up before the crack of dawn, pulling on a well worn sweatshirt and heading out into the chill morning mist for a quick jog around the neighborhood. The trauma unit opens officially in a few hours, there’s no way she can just sit at home without going mad. Running helps focus her mind, the distance spooling past unnoticed as she mentally reviews her to do list, triple checking that she’s done everything she possibly can to make today a success.

She lets herself linger a bit over the last set of items on her invisible checklist. Jason having supper at Alan’s? Tick. Reservations at the posh new gastropub Serena’s been talking about? Tick. All that’s left now is to take Serena out, toast to their success, and, if all goes well, end the night by kissing her gorgeous co-lead senseless.

The thought alone puts a grin on her face that lasts the rest of her run, the shower after, right through the hospital doors.

It’s controlled chaos on AAU, and Bernie barely has the chance to take a breath between verifying equipment installations, testing the new trauma phone line, and giving instructions to nurses, staff, and F1s alike. Meanwhile Serena manages the rest of the ward, giving Bernie the space she needs to get things done, filling her with gratitude.

Finally the last i is dotted, the last t crossed. Bernie brandishes her clipboard with a fierce sort of pride as she breezes into their office.

“Just need you to sign this, and then we’re good to go.”

“Excellent.” Serena grins at her for a moment, adding her signature with a flourish. “Oh, now, if it’s all right with you, I would like to sneak home early. I’ve got to get onto all this before tomorrow’s board meeting.” She gestures to a truly impressive stack of binders on her desk, and Bernie’s heart sinks.

“No problem,” she says, hoping her voice doesn’t give away her disappointment. Serena looks up sharply, understanding dawning on her features.

“It normally wouldn’t be an issue,” she says smoothly, propping her elbows on her desk and leaning forward as if sharing a secret. Bernie focuses on keeping her eyes on Serena’s face, rather than wandering to the tempting territory now on display. “But I have a hot date tonight, and I don’t want to miss it.”

The corner of Bernie’s mouth quirks up in a smile, and she moves closer, leaning her hip against the edge of Serena’s desk.

“I see. Anyone I know?” she teases, Serena’s dark eyes sparkling up at her.

“I’m not sure,” Serena replies, voice dripping with false coyness. “Army major. Blonde hair, long legs, fantastic arse.” She drops a quick wink. “A truly spectacular kisser.”

Bernie shifts her hand, fingers brushing lightly against Serena’s on the surface of the desk as their gazes lock, the spark of desire that’s always there between them surging into a flame. 

She’s just pondering how noticeable it would be if she closed the blinds when she hears Fletch’s voice from the doorway behind her.

“Mr. Hanssen wants everyone to gather in the trauma bay. I think he’s written a speech.”

“No going back now.” Serena pulls her hand away smoothly as she stands, but the warmth is still in her eyes, wrapping around Bernie like a protective cloak, making her feel invincible.

“Bring it on.”

They all crowd in amongst the shiny new equipment of the trauma bay, listening to Hanssen extoll the virtues of their achievement. It feels a bit like standing for inspection, and Bernie has to suppress the urge to assume parade rest as he addresses the group.

“This could not have been achieved without the expertise, drive, and ambition of Ms Berenice Wolfe.” Hanssen inclines his head in Bernie’s direction. “Combined with the strong support of Ms Serena Campbell.” She can’t help but look to Serena at that, thinks her growing feelings must be beaming out of her like a lantern, but is powerless in this moment to stop it. 

“Ms Wolfe, a few words, perhaps?” 

It takes a heartbeat for it to sink in that she’s being addressed, and she tears her eyes from Serena, clearing her throat a little awkwardly.

“I’d be delighted.” Her phone vibrates against her hip as she steps forward, and she checks it out of habit, muttering a quick “sorry” to the group. Freezes when she sees the number across the screen, the many texts she apparently missed listed beneath.

“Uh,” she swallows hard. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Hanssen. I have to take this.” Shooting an apologetic wince to a clearly stunned Serena, she thumbs the ‘accept’ button as she rushes from the bay.

By the time she hangs up, Bernie can hardly hear for the blood rushing in her ears, anger and adrenaline flooding her system.

“I hope that call was important.” She spins, tries to soften her features at the startled look on Serena’s face. “Everything all right?”

“Uh, no, it was the lawyer, um.” Her grip tightens on her phone, the urge to hit something once again rising in her. “Well, I knew Marcus wasn’t going to go for mediation, but…”

“What?”

“The money’s flying out of our accounts, and I’ve got to move fast, apparently.” Serena’s mouth sets in a firm line.

“How fast?”

“She wants to see me now, but I’ve said it’s impossible.”

“No, ring her back.” Serena shakes her head decisively. “Tell her you’re on your way.”

“I can’t do that,” Bernie protests. “I’m trauma lead.”

“It’s fine.”

Bernie hesitates. “It’s too much to ask,” she says finally, though it feels like far too little to encompass the muddle of her feelings.

“Nonsense.” Serena waves a hand airily between them. “I can do the reading anywhere. Don’t forget, I am a fully paid up member of the ‘embittered ex-wives club.’ Edward would’ve taken every last fish finger from the freezer if I’d let him, so go. Now.” 

Her tone brooks no argument, and a rush of affection washes over Bernie so strongly it makes her knees a little weak. For the thousandth time she thinks how astonishingly lucky she is to have found this woman, to have a partner who truly supports her, without expecting her to be anything other than herself. If it weren’t for Fletch appearing to hand Serena her phone, Bernie thinks she might’ve kissed her right here, keeping things quiet and the rest of the ward be damned.

Instead, she tucks her phone back in her pocket, all ready moving.

“I’ll square it with Hanssen. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Serena’s “Give him hell!” rings in her ears as she walks away.

\- - -

The jolt of confidence from Serena’s words has long since disappeared by the time Bernie leaves to solicitor, replaced by fury and hurt. She knew Marcus was angry, couldn’t blame him a bit, in truth.

But this. This was something else.

The coldness in his eyes as he sat across the table, the acrimonious words and accusations spat her way; twenty five years of grudges and slights laid out in black and white.

Seeing red, Bernie cranks the radio in her car, manages to chain smoke three cigarettes before she pulls into the Holby car park. In comparison, the order and background noise of AAU is a balm, and despite the hurt she feels, her shoulders relax a few notches at the sight of Serena striding across the ward.

“You won’t believe it,” she says, falling into step beside Serena. “We’ve been married for twenty-five years, he doesn’t want to give me a penny from the house.” Fresh anger wells up in her, and she paces the confines of their office like a caged lion. “All of his accounts are empty, even though he’s recently inherited 400,000 from his mother, and as you seem to have things covered-”

“Covered? You think?” The bitterness of Serena’s tone stops Bernie in her tracks. She looks at Serena, really looks, is startled and a little ashamed that she missed the tightness around Serena’s eyes, the downturn at the corners of her mouth. Serena chuckles mirthlessly.

“Since I last saw you,” she begins, “I have removed a metal railing from the abdomen of a vulnerable young girl, who happens to be a friend of Jason’s that I didn’t even know about until today, because I have completely taken my eye off the domestic ball.”

The knowledge that the trauma unit, and their burgeoning relationship, have been keeping Serena from home settles like a stone Bernie’s stomach.

“I-it can’t be that bad,” Bernie says hopefully.

“Oh, it can. Believe me. Because this girl seems to be implying that Jason has committed some sort of sexual assault, and now the police are involved.” Bernie feels her mouth drop open, but Serena’s warming to the topic now, her voice strident, edged in hysteria. “Oh! And in addition, Hanssen has asked me to completely rewrite my presentation to the board - I haven’t even begun to read any of that yet, so there’s still a mountain to climb before tomorrow morning.” She waves one of the folders in Bernie’s direction before slapping it back down on the desk. “Oh and the red phone. The red phone! Could ring again at any minute!”

The last bit is loud enough that Bernie’s sure most of the ward can hear, and she feels sick at the thought that she wasn’t there when Serena needed her. Any lingering thought of Marcus is washed away by the simple desire to make things better anyway she can.

“Don’t worry about the red phone.” She cuts in before Serena can start shouting again. “I’m here now. Let’s get some fresh air, yes?”

Serena pauses, relents with a huff.

“Yes.”

Bernie has to rush a bit to keep up with her, barely manages to tell Lou where they’ll be as Serena sweeps out the door.

Bernie pulls her hoodie tighter around her as she steps out on the roof. The day is warm, but there’s a breeze this high up, and her thin cotton scrubs do little to block it. She sits beside Serena on the metal steps, the cold soaking through her scrubs a contrast to the warmth she can feel where their shoulders touch.

“I shouldn’t have left,” she says softly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you just caught me at a bad moment, that’s all. I’m fine now, really.” Serena smiles, but Bernie knows her well enough by now to see how forced it is. “I’ve coped with worse before.”

“Before you didn’t have Jason, and you didn’t have a trauma bay.” Bernie bites the inside of her cheek to stop from saying _you didn’t have me to distract you_.

“Well, that’s true.” She sighs heavily, and all Bernie wants is to put her arms around Serena, to make it all better. It’s only the insistent voice in her head saying that she’s partly to blame for all this that keeps her hands tucked between her knees. 

“He’s just so vulnerable, Bernie. He really doesn’t know much about women, and he so wants to. I should’ve talked to him about girlfriends, really.” A stricken look crosses her face. “Oh dear, I think I’ve rather let him down.”

“Oh no, no, no. Whatever happened, it’s not your fault.” Serena cares so much, so deeply, for so many; the thought of her thinking otherwise breaks Bernie’s heart. “You’re just going to have to prioritize what’s important to you.”

“Maybe you’re right.” This time when Serena looks her way, some of the tension has left her brow. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Unexpectedly, Bernie feels Serena’s hand slide across her thigh, teasing one of her hands free and lacing their fingers atop Bernie’s kneecap, rests her head on Bernie’s shoulder with a soft sigh.

A lump tightens in Bernie’s throat. This feels like a privilege, one she wants so badly to deserve. She turns her head enough to bury her nose in Serena’s soft hair, breathing deep the scent of her shampoo, pressing a soft kiss to her crown.

“You know, you’re one of the things.” Serena’s words vibrate a bit against Bernie’s lips, and she hums inquisitively. “The things that are important to me.” She pulls back a little, eyes dark and troubled. “I’m sorry I haven’t been prioritizing you.”

Bernie frowns. “Serena, no. I don’t want any more than this.” She huffs a laugh, blushing a bit at Serena’s arched eyebrow, her thumb sliding higher along the inseam of Bernie’s jeans. “All right, that’s not entirely true. But we both lead complicated lives. I have no illusions about that.”

“Maybe we should just quit our jobs. I’m sure the ward would be fine without us. We could go on a long holiday. Someplace warm.” Some of the sparkle returns to Serena’s eyes. “I’d love to see you in a bikini.”

Heat climbs the back of Bernie’s neck, pools between her thighs as Serena’s eyes rake over her.

“I don’t know. There’s something to be said for going someplace cold,” Bernie says, jostling their shoulders slightly. “Rent a cozy little cabin far away from everything, curl up in a blanket in front of a roaring fire. Clothing optional, of course.” She winks, and feels a stab of satisfaction at Serena’s sharp inhale, the way her eyes flick to Bernie’s lips.

It’s too much to resist, and Bernie finds herself leaning forward a bit, pulled in as if by gravity. Their lips are only millimeters apart when she pauses, Serena’s trembling breath warm as it buffets against her.

“I thought we weren’t doing this in the hospital.” The strained husk of Serena’s voice thrums through Bernie, and she has to swallow hard before speaking.

“We’re not in the hospital,” she says. “Technically.” Serena’s eyes crinkle up at the corners.

“I do like the way you think,” Serena replies, closing the miniscule space between them.

The world falls away, as it always does, reduced to just the two of them. They keep their kisses slow and sweet, more soothing than arousing, both aware that the perfect bubble of this moment can’t last long. It's restraint Bernie’s grateful for when she hears the scrape of the latch on the roof door, and they have just enough time to untangle themselves before Fletch’s head pops around the corner.

“Celia’s sats are dropping, looks like a re-bleed.”

Bernie tries to communicate silent support in response to the flare of panic in Serena’s eyes, prays the day won’t get any worse as they follow Fletch back into the hospital.

Thankfully, the surgery goes well. Bernie takes the opportunity to run down to Pulses for a quick coffee as Serena talks Jason through what’s happened. The relief of it all makes her a little giddy, and she jogs up the stairs to burn off some of the excess energy.

Coming back onto the ward, her eyes unerringly search out Serena, find her lingering at the nurse’s station, watching over Jason and Celia.

“So Jason’s not dangerous after all,” Bernie says as she steps up beside Serena, resisting the urge to reach out and take her hand.

“No, he just needs to work on his technique.” Serena smiles her way, a real one this time. “This is what it’s all about. Saving lives, making a difference. And I’m damn good at it.”

“I’m not arguing with you.”

“I love medicine. And I love my family.” Their eyes lock for a moment, the unspoken implication hanging heavily between them, and Bernie’s pulse thuds like a drum in her ears. Serena clears her throat, turns back to contemplate the young couple. “And they both deserve my precious time far more than the board of this hospital.”

“Well, no one’s holding a gun to your head.” Serena just gives a startled blink, and Bernie walks away, leaving her with her thoughts.

\- - -

“Well here’s to my new found freedom from the tyranny of the boardroom,” Serena says gleefully, raising her glass to tap lightly against Bernie’s, then Jason’s. “Thanks to both of you.”

Shaking her head, Bernie swallows her wine. “No, that was you Serena. I just lit the touch paper.”

Serena’s smirk over the rim of her glass borders on indecent, and Bernie has to remind herself very firmly that they’re in public, and that Jason is with them.

“It’s too late to go to Alan’s now,” he says, frowning down at his watch. “And it’s fish and chips night. It’ll be closed soon.”

By the time they’d gotten Celia settled and Serena worked out the details of stepping down from her position as deputy CEO, their dinner reservation was long past. Albie’s may be a poor substitute for privacy and candlelight, but Bernie finds she enjoys this almost as much. The warmth of Serena’s love for Jason is almost tangible, and being welcomed into their little family is humbling.

Bernie’s breath hitches at the realization that she thinks of Serena and Jason as family, as an inextricable part of her life, her heart.

It’s more than a little terrifying, and a jolt of adrenaline surges through her system as she ducks her head, hiding behind another long swallow of wine.

They haven’t even talked, not really anyway. Certainly haven’t made any decisions about what they might, or might not, be to one another. And yet a small, shining part of Bernie’s heart can picture them being together far into the future with startling clarity.

A nudge against her foot pulls her from her thoughts, and she smiles reassuringly in response to the question in Serena’s eyes, jostling her foot right back.

“Oh, just five more minutes,” Serena says to Jason, her foot retreating back to her side of the table. “I’ll buy you an extra large chips.”

“And a pickled egg? And a giant gherkin?”

“Deal.”

Another softer touch buffets Bernie’s ankle as Serena buries her smirk in her glass. She’s managed to kick off her shoe somewhere along the way, and her stockinged toes are warm through the thin denim of Bernie’s jeans as they slide up along her calf.

Bernie’s attempt at a stern look is met only with guileless innocence, and she almost chokes on her wine when Serena’s foot brushes the inside of her knee. Keeping her breathing even, she flips over her phone where it rests on the table, taps a quick message as Jason tells them all about the history of pickling as a food preservation technique.

_Stop it_

A grin flashes across Serena’s face for a moment as her screen lights up, her fingers dancing over the screen even as she looks to be thoroughly engrossed in Jason’s words.

_Why should I?_

_Bc your nephew is here_

Bernie inhales slowly through her nose, pinning Serena with a glare as her foot sneaks another inch higher.

_Well he does need to learn about girlfriends…_

Several smirking emojis follow, echoing the suggestive quirk of Serena’s eyebrow.

Regretfully, Bernie slips a hand beneath the table, catching Serena’s foot and stopping its progress. She takes the opportunity to swipe her thumb beneath the hem of Serena’s trousers, stroking where the pulse thrums beneath the delicate skin of her ankle, and she can’t help but feel a little smug at the way Serena’s cheeks go pink.

They reach the end of their wine and Jason will no longer be fobbed off.

“All right, all right. Fish and chips it is.” They all stand, making their way out of Albie’s. Bernie’s hand rests on Serena’s back for a moment as she guides her through the crowd and out the door.

Outside, Bernie hesitates. She knows Serena hasn’t talked to Jason about them yet, doesn’t want to confuse him with hypotheticals or make it any easier for the rumor mill, so the good night kisses she’s become used to are off the table. She sees her regret mirrored in Serena’s eyes as she turns and busses her cheek softly against Bernie’s.

“I’m going to get you back for that,” Bernie murmurs softly in Serena’s ear, under the guise of a friendly embrace.

“I very much look forward to it.” 

Pulling back with a quick wink, Serena turns and follows Jason, leaving Bernie grinning like a fool in her wake.


	4. Chapter 4

“Raf, have you seen Ms Campbell?”

Bernie tries to keep her voice neutral. Really, she does. The smirk she gets in return makes her think she’s been less than successful. 

“She’s off at that mindfulness leadership course all day,” he says. “Didn’t she tell you?”

“She did.” Bernie’s shoulders slump a little. “I just completely forgot that was today.”

“Looks like you’re in charge, Major.” Raf leans in conspiratorially, jerking his head toward the consultant’s office. “I think she left something for you.” The smirk turns into a grin and Bernie can feel the heat climbing up her neck.

“Right. Uh, I’m sure it’s instructions, or...something.” She backs away, hands flailing a bit. “Well, patients to see.” With a wan smile, she turns, rushes to the safety of the office.

The door closed firmly behind her, Bernie closes her eyes, thuds her head against the door jamb. It would be easier to keep her burgeoning relationship with Serena a secret if she could stop putting her foot in her mouth at every opportunity, she thinks ruefully.

Normally she’d have been able to resist the urge to ask, but they’ve been on opposite shifts for almost a week, in preparation for the upcoming CQC inspection, their only real communication a long string of texts back and forth. They’ve even taken to sending the occasional selfie; Serena far more often, Bernie only when Serena manages to wheedle her into it. 

At the end of the day, she just misses Serena.

The sight of a Pulses cup on her desk brings a smile to Bernie’s face. Taking the first bracing sip, she picks up the note beside it.

_Sorry to leave you on your own today. Drinks later? Miss you -S xx_   
_PS - look after Morven for me_

It’s Morven’s first day back at work since Arthur’s death, and glancing out at the ward, Bernie can see the tension in her frame, the energy she’s expending to hold herself together. She wishes Serena could be here too, her warmth, her concern, all her goodness that surrounds the people she cares for. But she’s learned how to stand in for a soldier out of commission before, takes a deep breath, and promises to herself that she’ll give Morven her very best Serena impression, and hopes it’s enough.

Bernie finishes her coffee, tossing the empty cup in the bin, and adding Serena’s note to the steadily growing pile of post-its in her desk drawer.

She has a ward to run.

\- - -

Bernie sets her spoils on the nurse’s station desk beside the file Morven is studying, nods reassuringly at the F1s puzzled expression.

“Strong tea and sugar. What every good soldier needs to get them through the day.”

“A napoleon cake.” Morven reaches out to touch the package, a sad smile on her lips. “It was Arthur’s favorite.”

“Indeed.”

Not for the first time, Bernie wishes she had Serena’s ease in providing comfort to those around her, never fails to be amazed by the way Serena can reassure coworkers and patients alike with a warm smile, a gentle touch, and a few caring words. Bernie’s never been that way, always more oriented toward action.

Today, action looks like tea, cake, and a supportive ear.

“Mr Musgrove is asking. About Arthur.” Morven’s hands flutter a little aimlessly. “I just don’t know how to tell him. Arthur and I treated his wife about 8 months ago now. She was a lovely woman,” she says, voice going soft. “She died.”

“Poor man.” Silently Bernie curses whatever fate led to the appearance of Mr Musgrove and his new bride on the ward, especially on Morven’s first day back. It was clear to everyone how very much Morven and Arthur loved one another. Bernie can hardly imagine the pain of that loss. Unerringly her thoughts turn to Serena, a dull kind of ache arising in her chest. “Lily’s quick work, then.”

“And he was admitted about a week after she died. He was in a real state. Arthur helped him. We both did.”

“Do you want me to tell him for you?” It seems the very least Bernie can do, but Morven quickly demurs.

“No, no no, that’s ok. I will.” She takes a breath, shoulders squaring. It forcefully reminds Bernie of the young trainees she saw in the field, finding reserves they never knew they had.

“After tea and cake,” Bernie counsels as she turns to leave. “Then you can face anything.”

\- - -

The rest of the morning goes quickly, between managing AAU and keeping an eye on Morven. Bernie makes sure not to mollycoddle or hover, she just likes knowing where her team is, doesn’t want to get caught unawares.

Her phone buzzes as she makes her way back inside after giving Morven a pep talk, can feel that she’s smiling when she sees Serena’s name. It seems that there’s a required yoga session as a part of the mindfulness seminar, and the colorful series of expletives Serena uses to describe the whole endeavor has her holding back a laugh, shoulders shaking.

Another text buzzes, this one from Dom requesting a consult, and she changes course, sending back a series of laugher emojis to Serena before tucking her phone away.

The consult goes quickly enough, and Bernie finds herself lingering a bit up on Keller, chatting with Dom at the nurse’s station. She feels badly that they haven’t spoken much lately, even more that she’s been purposefully avoiding their customary heart-to-hearts on the roof. It’s just that she knows if Dom gets her alone she’ll inevitably let slip what’s been going on with Serena, and while she loves Dom dearly, she doesn’t think he’d be able to keep a piece of gossip that juicy solely to himself. Better to keep her distance and fill him in where there’s something to actually tell.

“Oh!” Dom’s eyes light up, grabbing her arm and tugging like an excited child. “You _have_ to see this!”

He practically drags her across the ward to the windows, and she gives a befuddled, apologetic wave to the patient in the bed next to them when Dom snatches a pair of professional-looking binoculars from the man’s bedside.

“Dom, what on earth-“ He shoves the binoculars into her hands, almost bouncing in glee.

“Trust me,” he reassures, lifting the binoculars to her eyes.

A twist of a knob and the blur of color clears, focuses on colorful yoga mats spread on a patch of the hospital lawn. She sees Serena alongside Ric, Henrik, and Sacha, all balancing in poses with varying degrees of success.

Through the binoculars it’s easy to make out the irritation on Serena’s face, and as she watches her wobble a bit on one leg, Bernie can only imagine what she’s going to have to say about this all later.

“It’s better than watching _Strictly_ ,” Dom says over her shoulder. “Essie and I have a pool on who goes down first. You want in?”

The instinct to protect Serena’s reputation rises strong in her, and she opens her mouth to rebuke Dom. The words die in her throat as below the instructor guides the group into a new pose, kneeling on their mats, arms stretched out before them, foreheads practically touching the ground. She watches breathlessly as Serena’s hips raise into the air, back arching, and Bernie’s mouth goes dry as her mind all too helpfully supplies a series of vivid suggestions for other venues for the pose, each one filthier than the last.

“Bernie?” It’s clear from Dom’s tone this isn’t the first time he’s tried to get her attention. Heart still pounding, she forces her hands to lower the binoculars, pins Dom with her sternest military glare.

“I think the consultants of this hospital, not to mention its CEO, would take a rather dim view of you gambling on them.” Dom pouts a bit, chastened, and Bernie reaches out, squeezes his arm to soften the blow. “I suggest you get back to work.”

Heading back down to AAU, she bypasses the elevators in favor of the stairs. All of a sudden she feels like she has some extra energy to burn off.

\- - -

It’s finally quiet on the ward, one of the rare days where Bernie thinks she’ll actually be able to end her shift on time. She hopes Serena’s course ends soon, thinks all she wants in the world right now is to sit at Serena’s side, drinking wine, taking in those lovely features.

Approaching the nurse’s station, she sees Morven just taking a bite of the cake from this morning.

“I don’t know how you resisted it for so long,” Bernie teases, settling into the empty chair. “I’m told you saved Lily Musgrove’s life. Good work, Dr Digby.” 

She tries to infuse all the pride and support she can into the words, tries to be more like Serena, in truth; thinks she succeeds when sees Morven’s shoulders straighten, her face flushed with pleasure. Glancing away, Morven fiddles with what looks to be a flash drive, some sort of cartoon figure painted on the side.

“What’s that?” A sad sort of smile crosses Morven’s face.

“I found it in Arthur’s locker,” she says, eyes still on the stick of plastic. “It could be his life’s work, or if I’m really lucky it could be a map of the twelve colonies of Kobol.”

Bernie’s brow furrows, not sure she heard her right. “What?”

But Morven’s already turned away, slotting the device into the back of the computer.

The drive doesn’t contain revolutionary medical research, or anything about Kobol, whatever that is. Instead they find a video of Morven and Arthur singing karaoke at Albie’s; drunk, happy, and so in love it seems to radiate through the screen. It’s a beautiful thing to see, most of the staff gravitating over as the music issues from the speakers.

Bernie can’t help but wish she’d had more time to get to know Arthur, watches his smiling face over Morven’s shoulder, chin propped up on her hands. She’s so caught up she starts a bit when she feels a hand slide lightly up over her back, but doesn’t have to look to know who it belongs to.

“I heard there was a hospital duo topping the karaoke charts.” That husky voice washes over Bernie, as Serena leans against the back of Morven’s chair, patting the F1 gently on the shoulder. “I didn’t know it was you two.”

Bernie smiles up at her, an unexpected sense of completion washing over her, as if all she needs in the world is Serena at her side. Serena returns the smile, practically glows with it, drops the barest wink Bernie’s way.

It’s a moment like so many others they’ve shared on AAU, a kind of bubble surrounding just the two of them, the rest of the world receding slightly into the background; something about it niggles at Bernie’s mind, a snippet of a tune she can’t quite remember.

She glances back at the screen, and it hits her out of the blue - the way Morven and Arthur look at each other, the unmistakable love there. 

That’s what Bernie sees when Serena smiles at her.

Adrenaline courses through her veins, making her fingertips tingle; a heady mix of terror and joy and too many other feelings to name. Bernie realizes that Serena’s still looking at her, feels suddenly exposed by her gaze.

“Morven,” Bernie bursts out, gesturing at the screen, hoping that it’s sufficient distraction. “You sound just like her!”

“Who?” Serena asks dryly, an eyebrow raised.

“Dusty Springfield.” Everyone around them laughs, but before Bernie can ask, they all break into applause as the video ends. “Oh no, play it again, play it again,” Bernie urges, desperate for a few minutes more to rein in her thoughts.

“And then I suggest drinks at Albie’s,” Serena says. “So I can wash away the mind numbing goodness of mindfulness with a healthy dose of shiraz.”

Bernie pitches her voice low, hopes only Serena can hear. “Isn’t it Dusty Springfield?”

“No, it’s not.” The playful judgement in Serena’s eyes fades into fondness, an affection so unmistakable it sets Bernie’s heart to hammering.

Bernie finds herself irrationally glad that Raf and Morven join them at Albie’s, the four of them bunched up around one of the little tables. It's not that she doesn’t want to be alone with Serena, it’s that she wants it _too_ much, is worried what she might say with her feelings still so close to the surface.

As Serena launches into a diatribe about the travails of the leadership course, Bernie lets herself just watch Serena, gets a little lost in those dark, expressive eyes, the lines that her smile exaggerates, the dimple in her chin.

Maybe it’s the wine, but with each passing moment the impulse toward fear seems further and further away. In its place Bernie finds only gratitude; gratitude to have found this place, to be accepted into this family of sorts. Gratitude to have Serena in her life.

The bottle empties, followed quickly by a second, and even before Raf says his goodbyes, Bernie can see that Serena is flagging, her eyelids drooping. They snap back open as Bernie rests a gentle hand on Serena’s knee, feels the warmth of her through the fabric of her trousers.

“Let me drive you home.”

Serena just nods - a sure sign of how tired she is - handing her keys over and hiding a yawn behind her hand.

By the time they pull into the drive, Serena is dozing in the passenger seat, eyelashes casting faint shadows on her cheekbones. She looks softer in sleep, the stress smoothed from her face, and Bernie’s heart swells just looking at her. Images crowd her mind of waking up to Serena like this, of lazy mornings in bed trading slow, sweet kisses. 

It’s still scary, but Bernie can no longer deny that this is what she wants. That Serena, a life with her, is what she wants. She thinks that’s what Serena wants too, but the uncertainty still lingers, makes her hesitate.

Bernie worries she’s like one of those so-called ‘u-haul lesbians’ Dom was telling her about, already ready to start a life together when they’ve done little more than kiss, but it’s impossible to deny the importance Serena has in her life, how integral she already feels. And from the way Serena’s eyes search her out every day, the smile that lights her whole face up when they make eye contact, that’s proof enough for Bernie. 

But still, she’s never been one to posit theories without thoroughly testing every aspect of her hypothesis. So she’ll wait, and maybe Serena will say it first.

She reaches across the console and gently brushes aside an errant lock of Serena’s hair, trails her fingers along the curve of her jaw, thumb stroking her cheekbone. Serena’s eyes flutter open, brow furrowing a moment, then clearing. With a sigh she nuzzles a little into Bernie’s palm.

“You should get some sleep,” Bernie says softly, though she’s loath to stop touching Serena’s soft skin. Serena seems to agree, humming her displeasure.

“But I’ve hardly seen you all day.” Something suspiciously close to a pout tugs at her lips, and Bernie feels herself fall a little bit deeper.

She lets her hand drift lower, Serena’s pulse thrumming beneath her fingertips.

“Does that mean you missed me?” she teases.

“What do you think?”

Quicker than Bernie would’ve expected, Serena reaches out, curling her fingers around the back of Bernie’s neck and pulling her into a kiss. 

It feels like forever since they’ve had any real time alone together, the ache of it she’s been trying so hard to ignore flaring to life at the first touch of Serena’s lips. Bernie can tell Serena’s still a little sleepy, her movements slow and languid, and Bernie sinks into the feeling, flicking her tongue past Serena’s lips as she lightly scratches at her scalp. A moan vibrates against her mouth and she chases it eagerly, Serena’s fingers tangling in her hair as Bernie deepens the kiss.

The seatbelt bites into Bernie’s shoulder as she tries to get closer, and she reaches down, fumbling with the clasp without breaking the kiss, their elbows bumping as Serena does the same. Free of that last restraint, they crash together over the center console, teeth clashing as they each press closer.

Bernie’s hands find their way to Serena’s waist, sliding against the silky smooth fabric of her blouse, mapping the curves beneath. She can feel the heat of Serena’s body radiating through the silk, and the temptation is too much to bear. A shift of her hand, and her fingers find soft skin.

Dancing along the waistband of her trousers, Bernie feels every reaction of Serena’s body; a surprised jerk when she brushes a ticklish spot at her side, the way she melts even further into Bernie when she strokes the dip of Serena’s spine. She swallows Serena’s gasp when she smooths her hand across the soft swell of Serena’s stomach, thumb circling her navel. Instinctively she chases the flutter of muscles beneath her fingers, Serena’s grip on her hair tightening as Bernie’s hand creeps higher and higher. Soft skin transitions to rough lace and Bernie’s head spins a bit at the contrast.

“Wait.” Serena tears away from the kiss with a gasp, breathing harsh and uneven. “Just...wait.”

Bernie pulls back as if burned, sudden anxiety gripping her stomach, fear that she pushed Serena too far, too fast. That she may have taken advantage.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammers, hand hovering uselessly between them. “I didn’t mean to.”

“What?” Serena laughs, short and sharp. “No, god! You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s this bloody gearstick.” She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, the offending item clearly digging into her hip.

Relief floods Bernie, loosens the fear gripping at her lungs. It takes her a moment to realize Serena’s moving, seemingly searching for something in the back of the car.

“Serena, what-” The words die in Bernie’s throat as Serena hefts herself up with a grunt, twisting her torso between the seats and putting her arse at eye level for a breathtaking moment, and Bernie is forcefully reminded of the moments of flexibility Serena showed on the yoga mat, though she’d probably deny it. A few curses and a wiggle later, she manages to pull herself through, flopping into the backseat with a triumphant huff.

“That’s better.” Serena crooks her finger in a teasing ‘come hither’ motion. “Care to join me?”

Bernie certainly doesn’t need to be asked twice, practically hurls herself through the narrow opening between the seats. In her enthusiasm her foot gets caught up on something, and she slips, practically falling into Serena’s lap, catching herself at the last moment to keep their heads from cracking together.

Somehow she ends up straddling Serena’s thighs, hands braced against the seat over her shoulders, foreheads practically touching.

“Mmmm, much better.” The slow, filthy smile that spreads across Serena’s face pools heat directly between Bernie’s thighs. “Now, where were we?”

The change in position puts them at a different angle, and Bernie has to duck her head a bit to meet Serena’s lips, hands cupping her face to hold her in place as Bernie kisses her slow and deep.

A puff of cool air hits her skin, chased a moment later by the warmth of Serena’s hands sliding beneath Bernie’s shirt, splaying wide against her back and pressing them impossibly tighter together. The dull scrape of fingernails sends lightning crackling along Bernie’s spine, her hips grinding mindlessly into Serena’s belly, and the whimper she feels against her lips hums right through her.

She pulls back when the need for air becomes too strong, detours to trail hot, open mouthed kisses along the line of Serena’s jaw, nosing at the soft spot behind her ear, where the scent of her perfume is still strong enough to make Bernie a little dizzy. The fingers bracketing her spine press harder as she catches Serena’s earlobe between her teeth, biting down lightly before soothing the sting with a swipe of her tongue.

A breathless chuckle comes from somewhere near Bernie’s ear, and she pulls back just enough to meet Serena’s eyes, an eyebrow quirked in question.

“I don’t think I’ve made out in the backseat of a car since I was a teenager,” Serena laughs, and Bernie mouth curls, echoing her delighted grin.

“Is it as good as you remember?” Bernie murmurs, dipping her head back down to trace the prominent tendon on the side of Serena’s neck with the tip of her tongue, drawing a gasp from her.

“Better.” She groans, one hand coming up to tangle in Bernie’s hair as she nudges aside the collar of Serena’s blouse with her nose, teeth scraping against her collarbone. “God, _so_ much better.”

Bernie loses herself in exploring all the tantalizing skin left bare by Serena’s blouse, touching and tasting every inch she can reach, urged on by Serena’s clutching hands, the intoxicating chorus of moans and gasps that greet each swipe of Bernie’s tongue. Her shirt is shoved halfway up her back at this point, and Bernie shudders as those nimble fingers slip beneath the elastic of her sports bra, teasing the sensitive skin, following the band until they’re against the side of her breast. Even with all the clothes in the way, the tiny movements of Serena’s fingers and the pressure of her thumb against Bernie’s ribs is enough to make her clench, and she muffles a moan against Serena’s sternum.

Her fingers catch at the neckline of Serena’s vest, and there’s just enough moonlight filtering into the car to illuminate the flash of sheer black lace, the creamy swell it encases. There’s no thought, just the heat of the blood pounding her veins as Bernie tugs the fabric aside even more, following the scalloped edge with her tongue, the contrast between rough lace and silken skin making her dizzy. 

She nuzzles into the valley between Serena’s breasts, can’t resist sucking a mark on the soft skin just above the cup.

Dimly, she hears Serena whimper a curse, the hand that was tugging so deliciously at her hair disappearing, finding its way into the nonexistent space between them. She feels Serena’s hand twisting against her abdomen for a moment, and then the release of pressure as the button of her denims pops free.

Somehow, her common sense reasserts itself. She pulls herself away from the enticing expanse of cleavage just in time to catch the hand that’s now fumbling with her zipper.

“Serena,” she pants, voice harsh and tight. “Serena, wait.” Bernie straightens a little more, puts enough space between them that she can see the deep flush creeping up Serena’s neck, eyes blown wide, chest heaving, and it’s only by the barest margin that Bernie stops herself from diving right back in. Instead she swallows hard, has to clear her throat to speak.

“As unbelievably hot as this is,” Bernie starts, bites back a groan as Serena shifts between her thighs, “I don’t want our first time to be a quickie in the back of a car. Especially when Jason’s inside waiting on supper.” 

Serena sighs resignedly, hands moving to a far safer station at Bernie’s hips.

“‘First time’, eh?” she asks, tilting her head up with a teasing little grin that Bernie longs to kiss away. “Been thinking about it much, have you?”

“You have no idea,” Bernie practically growls, leaning back in to lightly brush her lips along Serena’s jaw. “When we do this,” she whispers, lips moving against Serena’s skin. “And I do mean _when_ , I want to be able to take my time with you.” 

Serena’s answering whimper vibrates against her lips, and Bernie catches her in one last slow, thorough kiss that leaves them both breathing heavily, foreheads resting together in the humid interior of the car.

“Right,” Serena says, shaking her head a bit as if to clear her mind. “Supper.”

It takes a bit of doing, but they manage to untangle themselves without straining anything, tumbling out the car door into the blessedly cool evening. Bernie turns quickly away from the house as she buttons up her trousers, sees Serena righting her blouse out the corner of her eye. The porch light clicks on, making her squint a bit, and she raises a hand in a wave when Jason’s face appears in the sidelight. 

“That’s my cue,” Serena says with a sigh. “Do you want to come in and call a cab?” Bernie just shakes her head.

“It’s not that far, I think I’ll walk.” She pitches her voice low, all too aware of Jason watching them. “It’s either that or a cold shower.” 

Serena’s filthy laugh curls up like a glowing ember in Bernie’s chest.

“Well make sure you text me when you make it home safe. I don’t want to have to worry when I’m thinking about you later in bed.” With a flirtatious wink, Serena turns and heads up the walk, hips swaying, and leaving Bernie’s jaw hanging somewhere near her knees.

She shakes herself with a huff, shoves her hands in her pockets and turns away, suddenly very glad of the chill English evening as she makes her way home.


End file.
